


Where I Does Not Exist

by captainofthefallen, madsthenerdygirl



Series: i carry your heart with me [i carry it in my heart] [3]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everything Hurts and I'm Dying, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, So Much Angst I Can't Even Begin to Describe, The Author Regrets Everything, You Have Been Warned, eventual, lots of suffering, you will suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-24 23:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14365665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofthefallen/pseuds/captainofthefallen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: When the unthinkable happens, the bonds they've created will be put to the ultimate test.





	1. I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

**Author's Note:**

> Title, chapter titles, and wedding ring quotations come from Pablo Neruda’s XVII, one of his One Hundred Love Sonnets.
> 
> This could be viewed as a sequel to Anything, Something but could also be read as a standalone.

Lucy would be scared of it. When they started going on the offensive against Rittenhouse, and they knew they had a mission in the morning, she’d be restless the night before. Couldn’t sleep.

She’d shake them awake sometimes, just to ask, “Do you know me? Do you know who I am? Do you love me?”

 _Yes_ , they’d always reply. _Yes, of course we know you, of course we love you, you’re our angel, you’re our Luce._

Sometimes she wouldn’t wake them up. She’d just get nightmares and wake up, go and cry on the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, trying to keep quiet. Inevitably one of them would find her—usually Flynn, Wyatt slept like the dead—and guide her back to bed.

_Do you know me? Do you love me?_

_Yes, yes, always yes._

They spent so much time worrying when she had to leave one of them behind. Wyatt would pace up and down the bunker like a caged tiger. He would snap at anyone who tried to talk to him and hogged the bathroom. Flynn would lock himself in their shared bedroom and woe betide anyone who tried to knock on that door and coax him out. It was like if he insulated himself, then nothing could get to him, nothing could change who he was.

They spent so much time worrying about themselves, they never thought to worry about her.

It was a purely military mission. More than one soldier would be needed, and Flynn’s historical knowledge would be enough. Rufus was piloting. It went off with just a few minor hitches—hitches they had thought were small enough that they couldn’t possibly change anything major back home.

Then they got off the Lifeboat.

“Where’s Lucy?” Wyatt said, bounding with his usual enthusiasm. He was like a puppy when it came to seeing her again, picking her up and sometimes spinning her around.

Flynn was quieter. He saw the way Mason busied himself, how Jiya looked up with a startled expression.

Agent Christopher frowned. “Where’s Lucy?”

Flynn felt a growl start up in his throat and tamped it down. “Yes. Lucy. Dr. Lucy Preston.”

Agent Christopher shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Lucy’s been with Rittenhouse since the explosion.”

It was like all the air, all the sound, went out of the room. It became dead space.

“No.” The sound seemed to tear itself out of Wyatt’s throat. “No, you’re—you’re lying.”

“You were on the mission with Rufus when you learned the truth,” Agent Christopher said, as if she were reminding someone that two plus two equaled four. “Her mother turned her.”

“She didn’t. She wouldn’t.” Wyatt stalked towards Agent Christopher like he was going to attack her.

“Well maybe not in your timeline, but here she did, and she is.”

Wyatt shook his head. “No. Not Lucy—she—”

“I’m sorry,” Agent Christopher said, and the heartbreaking thing was that she really did sound sorry. “But Lucy Preston is now one of Rittenhouse’s best agents.”

Wyatt stormed out without another word.

“Excuse me,” Flynn said, hurrying after him.

Wyatt wasn’t into physical affection with Flynn around others. He sometimes would apologize to Flynn about it, usually when they were alone and he was crowding up to Flynn, kissing his neck, going _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_ , as if it was his fault that society had injected shame into him for thirty years.

But nobody followed them, and so when Flynn caught up to Wyatt and grabbed his wrist he came easily, letting Flynn pull him in and wrap his arms around him.

“She wouldn’t,” he kept saying, his forehead resting against Flynn’s shoulder. “Garcia, you know, she wouldn’t.”

Flynn tightened his grip. Rittenhouse had taken his wife and child. They wouldn’t take another person he loved. Not again.

_Do you know me? Do you love me?_

“We’ll find her,” Flynn promised. He’d torn time apart once. He’d do it again.

_Yes, yes, always yes._


	2. or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm traveling for the next couple days so I'm posting this chapter early and if there's a couple-day gap between chapters, I apologize!

Wyatt turned the ring over and over in his hand.

_I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_

His ring, and Flynn’s, held the rest of the phrase. Flynn had the first line and Wyatt had the last. Lucy had gotten the middle.

The middle. Because she had been what had linked them first. Their love for her had come before their love for each other. If it wasn’t for her, well… Wyatt probably would have shot Flynn way back in the beginning. They certainly wouldn’t have ended up working together. Never would have fallen in love.

She was supposed to be the strongest link. The one they never doubted.

“I’m sorry that it was different in your timeline,” Denise was saying. “But Lucy was taken by her mother. Wyatt, you and Rufus learned this when you ran into her in World War I. Her mother… compelled her to switch sides.”

“Brainwashed her,” Wyatt spat. “Or blackmailed her somehow, to keep her with them, away from us.”

“Sergeant Logan. I understand that this is upsetting for you. I know that you two had a bond—”

“A bond?” Wyatt wondered if this was what hysteria felt like, something clawing up the inside of your throat until you couldn’t breathe. He held out the ring—Lucy’s ring, the one they kept on the Lifeboat. Whichever one of them got left behind, their ring was on the Lifeboat. “We’re married! She’s our _wife_!”

“Our?” Mason said, because of course that was the part that Mason picked up on.

“Yes, ours,” Wyatt spat, gesturing between himself and Flynn. “You got a problem with that, Mason?”

Mason appeared unfazed. In fact he looked curious. “So do you two just share her, or…?”

“Wyatt and I have regular and enthusiastic intercourse, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Flynn said dryly.

Rufus banged his head on the table.

Wyatt didn’t register Flynn moving but he felt Flynn’s hands come up to grip his shoulders, to guide him carefully back into his chair. “There’s no point getting angry with them,” he said quietly. “It’s not their fault.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He felt like an animal in a cage, only the cage was his body, his life. He needed something to lash out at, dammit.

Flynn sighed, trailing his hand down Wyatt’s arm to take Wyatt’s hand in his—the hand that held Lucy’s ring. “ _Liebling_ , please. Listen to me. We’ll get her back. We just need a little patience. We have to get the lay of the land.”

“Look, I know they probably sound insane,” Rufus said, “But they’re telling the truth. In our timeline, Lucy was only reluctantly working for Rittenhouse. She thought Wyatt and I were dead, that we were all dead. She was planning to kill herself in a suicide mission destroying the Mothership during the WWI mission. We ran into one another and brought her back. She and Flynn and Wyatt figured out this uh… thing… and they’re all together. They’ve been together for a year, at least, I think. And they definitely all got rings and you gave them a day off, Denise, and let them out of the bunker. I don’t know what they did but they came back with rings and after that they started saying husband and wife instead of boyfriend and girlfriend. That’s all I know, but… I never thought to ask. It’s not my business, the details you know? But they’re telling the truth. In our timeline, Lucy was always loyal to us, and she was married to Flynn and Wyatt.”

“Trust me, I didn’t believe it either at first,” Denise said. “When you told me that Lucy was Rittenhouse, I thought there had to be some mistake. But she’s proven herself to be our enemy.”

“Then we’ll go after her,” Wyatt said. “We’ll go after her and bring her back here. Once she’s back with us she’ll let go of all that, you’ll see.”

“I cannot authorize such a mission,” Denise said. “You’re clearly emotionally compromised, both of you.”

“If Lucy is with Rittenhouse, then how come you’re not surprised to see me?” Flynn asked. “I was only brought on because of her. She vouched for me.”

“We needed a historian and someone who was familiar with Rittenhouse,” Denise said. “You were our only option with Lucy gone.”

“Let us go after her,” Wyatt demanded. He was gripping Flynn’s hand as hard as he could, the aquamarine of Lucy’s ring digging into his palm and it still wasn’t tight enough, it wasn’t enough, his hand was shaking…

“We’ll follow your instructions, of course,” Flynn said quickly. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I think we need a moment.”

Denise nodded. “Of course.”

Mason and Jiya quickly got up and exited the room with her. Rufus, however, paused. Looked back.

“I believe you,” he told them. “I remember how it was, and I believe you. We’ll find a way to get her back. Just say the word.”

Then he, too, was gone.

“C’mere,” Flynn said, pulling Wyatt to him.

“I can’t—after Jess, I can’t—” Wyatt couldn’t get the words out, why were words so hard? “She’s not supposed to be the one, Garcia, she’s not supposed to—”

“We’ll get her back, darling, just listen to me,” Flynn said. He tucked Wyatt’s head under his chin, holding on tight like Wyatt might slip away next. “We have to play the long game here. We can’t go at this with our guns blazing or Agent Christopher will see through that in a minute. We have to play it smart. But we’ll find her, and we’ll get her back. Do you trust me?”

Wyatt nodded. Once, he would’ve shot Flynn before trusting him, especially with something as precious as Lucy. Now he trusted him completely—especially when it came to her. He knew Flynn would’ve rather torn his own arm off than let Rittenhouse turn Lucy.

“Good. We’re going to figure this out. We’ll steal her back if we have to.” Flynn’s voice took on that fanatical determination, the kind that Wyatt had heard before, back in the early days, when revenge was all that Flynn could see. “We’re going to get her back. I lost one wife, like hell I’m losing another.”

Wyatt could feel Lucy’s ring digging into his palm, cutting his skin, a trickle of blood flowing down. He only held onto it tighter. He’d gone through time once for Jess, accidentally killed a man for her.

He was prepared to do so much more than that for Lucy.


	3. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

It took them a while to find her, but she was a Rittenhouse agent now. It was only a matter of time until they ran into each other.

They entered the room, just the two of them, Rufus holding down the fort somewhere else, and saw someone else already in there.

Their guns were up before they registered who it was.

She looked just like Flynn remembered. Breathtaking.

“Lucy.” The sound tore itself out of Wyatt’s throat. Flynn wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but this wasn’t the time.

“Wyatt.” Lucy looked upset. “I see you’re persisting with this whole… endeavor.”

“You mean stopping Rittenhouse from taking over the world? Hell yeah I am.”

Lucy shook her head. She looked infinitely sad. Flynn’s jaw clenched. “Why do you keep resisting?” Lucy asked. “It’s only prolonging the inevitable. You should come with me, Wyatt. The offer is still on the table. We could use more people like you. We’d be together, the way we’ve always wanted. I know it’s what you want. I know we could be something good together.”

“We’re already good together,” Wyatt said. “We’re great together. Come home, Lucy. Just come home. I know this isn’t you.”

“What are you talking about?” Lucy’s voice was almost scornful. “What have they been putting in your head?”

“Do you not remember this?” Wyatt asked. He held up her ring—the one he’d been wearing on a chain since that day they’d gotten back and she’d been gone. “This is your wedding ring, Luce.”

“No.” Lucy shook her head. “I’m not married. Did that once, remember? The whole fiancé-that-just-appeared? I’m not doing that again.”

“We didn’t just—dammit,” Wyatt swore. “You’re our wife, Luce, just come home. Come with us, it’ll all work out. This isn’t really you, I know you don’t want this. Just changing history willy-nilly? Controlling others? You’ve never liked that.”

“Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” Lucy replied calmly. She cocked the gun. “Now, Wyatt, you can come with me, or you can get out of my way. Those are your two options.”

“Or there’s a third option,” Flynn said mildly.

Lucy looked over at him, as if only just remembering he was there. He had to remind himself that this Lucy didn’t love him yet, barely even knew him—had only been beginning to develop sympathy for him when she’d been taken by Rittenhouse. It wasn’t her fault that she looked at him with such cold eyes. “And what’s that?” she asked.

There was a table standing in between them.

Flynn flipped it, sending the edge of it flying right at her face, smashing into her.

She went down like a sack of bricks.

“The fuck, Garcia?” Wyatt demanded, rushing over to her.

“We need to get her onto the Lifeboat while she’s still unconscious,” Flynn said, holstering his gun and walking over to help Wyatt pick Lucy up. “If we put her in the same place we put Jiya and keep her knocked out, she should survive the trip.”

“Jiya’s the only one who’s made it,” Wyatt reminded him. “And she’s now an oracle or something. It could kill Lucy.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Flynn said. “We might never get another chance to bring her back.”

Wyatt stared down at Lucy’s face, her eyes closed as if in sleep.

“We’re going to risk losing her either way,” Flynn told him softly. “We’ve got no chance if we just keep trying to convince her in between firing bullets. This is the best we’ve got. She's unconscious, Wyatt, that should help. Her brain activity's muted.”

Wyatt’s jaw clenched. “All right,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

Rufus just gaped at them when they returned, an unconscious Lucy carried bridal style in Flynn’s arms.

“Just get in and pilot,” Wyatt said, climbing up the ladder into the Lifeboat.

Flynn didn’t put Lucy where Jiya had been. He buckled her into the extra seat.

“Garcia,” Wyatt said, his voice sharp.

“You really think I’d risk her mind?” Flynn asked him, settling next to Rufus and holding on.

“Garcia…” Wyatt tried to undo his seatbelt, but Rufus was already starting up the machine. “Garcia, take my spot, I’ll sit, I’ll—”

“Wyatt stay still!” Rufus yelled. “We’re taking off!”

Flynn held on and closed his eyes.

“Garcia!” Wyatt was yelling. “You sonofabitch, if anyone’s getting their brain burst it’s me, I’m not letting you—”

The Lifeboat lurched through time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm evil.


	4. in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

When the Lifeboat opened, Denise Christopher’s face went from mildly concerned to Not Pleased in an impressive 0.2 seconds.

“Rufus Carlin,” she said in her most Angry Mom voice. “What is—”

“Flynn,” Rufus said, trying to get down the ladder while carrying an unconscious Lucy in his arms. They had to get her strapped down or something before she woke up and got pissed. “Jiya, quick, Flynn—”

“You traveled with four in the Lifeboat?” Mason yelled, the realization hitting him.

Rufus got down the ladder. “We gotta get her out of the way.”

“We could strap her down to the med bed?” Jiya suggested.

“No,” Wyatt growled, emerging from the Lifeboat. He had Flynn’s arm thrown over his shoulder and was supporting him.

Flynn did not look good.

“We’re not tying her up,” Wyatt ordered. “How the hell is that supposed to get her to trust us?”

“We can’t trust her,” Denise replied.

“We’ll lock her in the boys’ room,” Rufus said. “Wyatt and Flynn’s room. She’s not tied up but she can’t get out. Maybe their stuff will help, I don’t know, soften her?”

“Jiya, please,” Wyatt said, helping Flynn down the ladder. “Look at him, is he anything like you were?”

“Why is he the one who’s ill?” Denise demanded.

“He put Lucy in the seat,” Rufus explained.

“What?” Denise yelled. “If you’re going to risk anyone then you risk the Rittenhouse agent, you don’t risk yourself!”

“I’m—not risking—my wife,” Flynn managed to get out.

Then he threw up.

“Well, this is disgusting,” Mason noted.

“Help me get her to the bedroom,” Rufus said.

Mason hurried him and the unconscious Lucy out of the room.

Flynn sank to his knees, taking Wyatt with him. “Just hold on,” Wyatt said, his voice cracking. “Denise, can’t you—get someone for him, please." He focused back on Flynn, pushing some of his hair back, and if Denise or any of the others had any doubts about the Wyatt-Flynn side of the triangle, those doubts were washed away by the look of pure desperation and fear in Wyatt's eyes. "Garcia just hold on.”

“His eyes aren’t bloodshot,” Jiya noted, checking Flynn over. “No enlarged pupils. Heartrate accelerated though.”

“You idiot.” Wyatt’s voice cracked, making the insult sound like another word entirely. He kept trying to prop Flynn up, struggling under Flynn's weight. “You idiot, if anybody was going to take the risk it should’ve been me.”

“Like hell,” Flynn managed to get out, “I’m letting—you—risk yourself.”

Wyatt looked up at Denise. “I know we broke the rules but please, Denise, get someone for him.”

“Of course I’m getting someone for him,” Denise said. “Try and keep him stable until then.”

The vomiting stopped about twenty minutes before the doctor arrived. By the end of it there wasn’t anything else for Flynn to throw up—he just kept heaving, his entire body shaking. Wyatt was trying to soothe him but was obviously a mess himself, his hands trembling, his eyes rimmed red.

“Well?” Denise asked, when Dr. Richards had finished.

“I gave him something to help him sleep,” Dr. Richards replied. “I have to say it was a near miss.”

“Near miss?” Wyatt croaked. He was sitting on the couch now, a sleeping Flynn’s head in his lap. He kept smoothing his hands over Flynn's chest, a cold washcloth pressed to Flynn's forehead. Wyatt looked nothing short of a fucking train wreck, constantly asking after Lucy while he all but growled at the doctor for answers while the doctor examined Flynn.

“His brain is fine,” Dr. Richards explained. “No miracle healing like with Jiya and I doubt he’ll be seeing any visions. But no aneurysms or signs of mental illness either. I think the fact that he was just going from the past to his own time is what did it.”

“I went into the past,” Jiya said. “Then came back. I got sick while I was in the past, that’s when I had the seizures and all.”

“And Flynn was already in the past, he just came home,” Denise said, slowly.

Dr. Richards nodded. “Exactly. I think that the journey itself is what played merry hell on his insides. It’d disoriented him, that’s why he kept throwing up, his body couldn’t find equilibrium again. But after some rest I think he should be fine. I wouldn’t recommend trying it again, though. It was a hell of a lucky break.”

“Thank you, Richards, we appreciate it.”

Wyatt folded himself over Flynn, clutching at his shirt, trying to remember how to breathe. They'd had nothing short of a fucking miracle. Flynn was okay. He was going to be okay. And they had Lucy back.

Maybe was going to be okay.

He didn't know what he was going to do if it wasn't.


	5. I love you as the plant that never blooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written by captainofthefallen. Because she likes to hurt me. Feel free to yell at her in the comments.

The room—which she’d been made aware was Wyatt and Flynn’s until recently—became her cell.

Denise brought her meals, tried to question her, convince her to change sides, or at the very least give them information.

She refused to talk. Not just about Rittenhouse. She wouldn’t say a word to any of them except for the moment she first woke up and demanded to be released.

Wyatt and Flynn moved to sleeping on the couches. Not a word of complaint from either of them, not even Flynn. They talked to each other sometimes, in low voices, defeated looks on their faces, one comforting the other, just trying to get through this without losing hope.

It wasn’t easy.

Flynn brought her coffee every morning, left it on her desk for when she woke up. She pretended to be asleep, even when she did hear him come in. She faced the wall, lay still, hoped he would keep his silence. If he talked to her, she might not be able to keep hers.

One morning seemed just the same as any other. He locked the door behind him when he came in, as always—a precaution, nothing more. Understandable. They didn’t trust her, and they were right not to. But once he’d set down the mug, this time he stopped. She heard him sit on the opposite bed.

She could hear her own heart pounding in his silence. “Lucy,” he said at last. He’d always had a way of saying her name, something no one else could quite replicate, something that drew her to him, like some gravitational force. Still, she didn’t react. Still and quiet and refusing to break.

He told her a story, then—his story, _theirs_ , from his and Wyatt’s timeline. How she saved him, how she loved him and Wyatt both, how many times they’d almost lost each other. He told her about the rings—how they had them engraved, how they always brought them in the Lifeboat whenever one of them had to stay behind, in case something happened.

He gently set something on the desk next to the coffee and left the room.

Her pillow was wet with tears when she turned and saw the ring—and the paper underneath it.

She read the poem in its entirety. Once, twice. Again and again. She closed her eyes. Drank the coffee.

He loved her. She’d known, of course, he and Wyatt had both been telling her from the start—but hearing it and  _feeling_  it were different things entirely.

The ring fit her perfectly—made for her, in every sense of the word, so that couldn’t be a lie. And Flynn loved her. That couldn’t be a lie.

Wyatt brought the coffee the next morning. His voice was rough from sleep—he never was a morning person—but he told her everything, just as Flynn had. How beautiful she looked when she sang in Hollywood. The radiance of her smile by Hedy Lamar’s pool. Everything that happened with Jessica. How the three of them—too slowly, agonizingly slowly—came to realize they loved each other. He told her how Flynn risked himself to protect her, how terrified Wyatt was that he was going to lose them both.

And then he just sat, at a loss for words. “I miss you, Luce,” he finally said. “Every day. And you’re right here, but it’s—” He broke off. “I still love you,” he said, and the roughness in his voice wasn’t just from sleep this time. “That’s… that’s all I’ve got.”

He lingered, for a few moments, like he wanted to say more, but then he was gone too.

Wyatt loved her. That couldn’t be a lie.

Flynn was back the next day, silent again until the last possible moment. Until he turned in the doorway and said, “You know, the first time I told you I loved you, we were fighting. You were angry with Wyatt for running off after Jessica, and me for running off after him, and I…” He swallowed audibly. “I thought that would be the day I’d lose you. You’d fall into Wyatt’s arms and I would let you go because I could take losing you to Wyatt. He loved you, and he deserved you more than I ever did. But…”

He took a breath, his next words a plea. “Not to Rittenhouse, Lucy. You deserve better.”

He stayed, just for a few more moments, and she could feel his eyes on her. She was afraid to look.

Flynn loved her. That couldn’t be a lie. Wyatt loved her. That couldn’t be a lie.

She—this other Lucy, the Lucy who came back—loved them. That couldn’t be a lie.

It wasn’t making this any easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I was just distracting myself in class and trying to make her suffer, she’s the one who went and made me a co-creator. (So if you’re yelling yell at both of us)


	6. but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

Lucy still wasn’t talking to them.

Telling her everything had been Flynn’s idea, once he recovered enough from his trip to be lucid and coherent and, well, walking upright without throwing up. Wyatt didn’t know how much of it had worked. For once, he felt as though Flynn could read Lucy better than Wyatt could. It used to be, he’d felt like he could read her better than anyone—and then like they could both read her equally, like they all fit together in different but just as important ways.

He wanted answers—and he wanted them now. He wanted to hunt down Emma and Carol and shake them until the truth fell out. He wanted to do something, anything, because this waiting was killing him.

Helping Flynn through the aftershocks of his trip in the Lifeboat hadn’t helped his nerves any, either. Flynn had been unable to walk for the first day or two, getting dizzy and sick every time he tried to get upright. Migraines would come and go, some of them so bad that he’d be clutching at his head, literally screaming for Wyatt to please, please, make it stop. It had broken Wyatt’s heart to hear Flynn in such pain, and he’d turn out all the lights, turn off all the noise, everything and anything to help Flynn’s headaches ease—all the while feeling like his own heart was ripping out of his chest, like something was shaking and cracking apart inside of him at how helpless he was to help Flynn, to help Lucy, to help either of them. It was his worst nightmare come true, both of his spouses in pain and nothing he could do to stop it.

As he’d slowly recovered, mostly by sleeping, Flynn would get moments of lucidity. Every time, he’d reach out for Wyatt, and every time he’d ask,

“Lucy?”

“She’s okay,” Wyatt would tell him, because, well, she was, technically. “She’s okay, Garcia.”

Then Flynn would slip into sleep again.

At first, Wyatt would wrap himself around Flynn on the sofa, refusing to sleep away from him. Not when Flynn might wake up and need him. After Flynn was fully recovered, however, Denise got them a cot. But it just wasn’t right. There was too much space. He was too aware of the spot where Lucy should be, sleeping between them. Lucy had been the cuddlebug. She would flop all over them, steal their warmth and their blankets, shove her feet between their legs and wrap herself around them like a leech.

Wyatt tried not to complain when the cot was brought in. He knew that the couch was too small for Flynn on his own, never mind both of them.

He was surprised to wake up in the middle of the night to find Flynn carefully moving him. Flynn could lift Wyatt if he was cautious about it, although he didn’t try it often.

“What…”

“Shh. C’mere.”

Wyatt found himself back on the couch, on the edge the way he liked, Flynn on the inside so nobody could sneak up on him. He cuddled into Flynn’s chest, let Flynn wrap his arms around him. Maybe if they eliminated the space, he could forget that there was someone missing.

Forget that Lucy was supposed to be there.

He didn’t know where Flynn’s faith came from. He seemed to know without a shadow of a doubt that they would convince Lucy to open up to them. Wyatt wished he had that conviction. Instead all he could feel was fear—fear that they’d lost her, that he was going to have to look into the face of the woman he loved and see nothing there but hatred and anger.

“Hey.” Flynn reached up, running his hand soothingly up and down Wyatt’s back. “It’ll be okay.”

He sounded like he really believed that. Wyatt supposed that he’d just have to believe in Flynn, then.


	7. thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

They continued running missions.

What else were they going to do? It wasn’t like Rittenhouse was going to stop itself, or like Lucy being gone had put their operations on hold.

The first time they saw Carol again Flynn had to hold Wyatt back. (“She’s pointing a gun at us, you really think you’ll get close enough to punch her?”)

“Where’s my daughter?” she asked.

Wyatt was straining against Flynn, who just held him steadily while his heart broke.

“Safe,” Flynn said, and that was all.

But he studied her. She used the word, but beyond that she gave no outward indication that the loss of her daughter was anything more than a tactical setback. She nodded coldly, then said, “You can tell her this changes nothing. She still has a responsibility. To her family.”

Wyatt fought harder against Flynn’s hold. “You bitch,” he snarled, a rare use of the word, “What did you do to her?”

Carol laughed, but it was a mockery of the sound. “Nothing at all. Merely reminded her where her loyalties lie.” She backed away. “You can go, this time. Deliver my message. Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

She aimed her pistol and fired.

Wyatt went down—Flynn barely managed to keep him from crashing to the floor. “Rufus!” he yelled.

Carol was getting away but Flynn didn’t give a shit. Blood, so much blood, was now seeping out of Wyatt’s leg, staining his pants. Flynn was already moving, yanking off his jacket, wrapping it around Wyatt’s leg to staunch the flow. Rufus ran into the room, skidding, literally, to a halt as he saw what was going on.

“Get the Lifeboat started now,” Flynn ordered.

For once, Rufus didn’t argue with one of Flynn’s ideas. They strapped Wyatt in as best they could, while he ranted at Flynn for not letting him at Carol, for not going after her.

“You’re shot,” Flynn snapped back, strapping him in. “And I know you have a flair for self-sacrifice but I’d rather you didn’t bleed out today, if you’re all right with living a few more years.”

Rufus, wisely, kept his mouth shut as he started up the controls.

Flynn climbed out of the Lifeboat already yelling for medical help. Rufus followed with Wyatt—his leg bandaged to the best of their ability, blood still seeping through, face screwed up in pain as he tried to walk.

Flynn was back at their side in a moment, taking Wyatt’s other arm and helping him to the nearest chair. “Rest, Liebling,” he ordered. “I’ve got it under control.”

Wyatt didn’t look all that inclined to do that, but by then the others were there and Denise was calling for a medical team and he really didn’t have a choice in the matter. Besides, when he tried to stand his face went white with pain.

Flynn followed them to the med room, holding Wyatt’s hand, only leaving when they could assure him Wyatt would make a full recovery. It felt like they were somehow cursed. First, he’d nearly had an aneurysm, then Wyatt got shot.

He wasn’t all that helpful during the operation, either. One would think that a Delta Force soldier would be better about letting a doctor patch him up, but Wyatt kept arguing with Flynn the entire time, ignoring the doctors, insisting that they should’ve kidnapped Carol, should’ve forced her to give them more information.

“You were in no shape to do any interrogating from what I’ve heard,” Denise said sternly.

Flynn shot her an _I’ve got this_ look. “Wyatt, it’s okay. I’ve got this. You trust me, right?”

Wyatt went quiet for the first time since they’d seen Carol. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You know I do.”

“Then trust me when I say I’ve got this handled.”

Wyatt nodded, finally relaxing back against the bed, but Flynn noticed that Wyatt’s hand only tightened in his.

When Wyatt was full of painkillers and too groggy to notice Flynn being replaced with Jiya, Flynn slipped out.

Something about how Carol had phrased her words nagged at him.

 _Where her loyalties lie_. What did that mean? It was clear to him that Carol held (or at least expressed) little maternal affection for Lucy, so why would Lucy go back to her? Was it just out of respect? She idolized her mother, he remembered. Followed in her footsteps as a historian.

He paced the living room, trying to make sense of it. It wouldn’t be just for her mother. Wyatt had told him everything that happened in 1918 in their timeline, how Lucy was undercover, trying to sabotage Rittenhouse without being caught, thinking she was the only one left alive.

(He also mentioned she was planning to destroy the Mothership, stranding herself to die alone in World War I. That possibility hurt just to think about.)

She couldn’t have changed _that_ much. Carol clearly hadn’t changed much, so it couldn’t just be their relationship that turned Lucy. Her father, Cahill? No, she had even less cause to love him or want to follow him. So who was she—

He froze mid-pace. _No_. It couldn’t be. But it was the only thing that made sense. Was it... would they really—?

 _They absolutely would,_ his mind snarled viciously. And then his protective instincts kicked in and he was walking as fast as he could down the hall toward her room. If he was right... oh, no, he would not stand for that.

If he was right—

Well. There was only one way to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, captainofthefallen is the one to yell at. Because it's not true angst until someone gets shot.


	8. risen from earth, lives darkly in my body.

Flynn didn’t bother knocking, just barged into the room.

“I know why you’re working with Rittenhouse,” he said. He could hardly keep the snarl off of his face—even though he knew it wasn’t Lucy’s fault, that she’d been doing the best she could. He wasn’t really angry at her. He was angry at Rittenhouse, at Carol, at all of them for what they had done and were doing to her. Especially Carol. God, fuck, Flynn was a parent, and he would have crossed oceans for Iris. He had stolen a damn time machine for her, killed good people for the chance to bring her back, save her life. How could Carol, how could any parent, do this to their children?

“What’s happening?” Lucy asked. She must have heard the yelling and figured that something had happened.

“Wyatt’s been shot,” Flynn said curtly, not in the mood for mollycoddling.

Lucy’s face went pale. So she did still care, as he’d always suspected.

“He’ll be okay.” Flynn would be a hell of a lot more of a wreck if Wyatt wouldn’t be, but for all his swearing, Wyatt’s wound had gone clean through. Carol had shot to distract them, not to kill. “And now you’re going to tell me the truth.”

“I can’t talk to you.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t.” Lucy had her stubborn face on, the one where her eyes blazed and her lips pressed tightly together.

“Because of Amy.”

Lucy’s face completely drained of color. “How do you know that,” she whispered.

“Educated guess based on something your mother said when we ran into her. She told us to remind you of your duty to your family.” Flynn dared to take a step closer. “But you have no loyalty to Carol or to your father. That only leaves one person.

“What did they do, Lucy? Promise you they’d bring her back?”

Lucy shook her head frantically, her eyes getting wet. “No, I can’t talk to you, they’ll know.”

“Even Rittenhouse isn’t omnipotent, Lucy.”

She was still shaking her head. “They probably already think I’m with you again, it’s probably already too late, you have to let me out, Flynn, please. You say you love me, so let me go, if you love me you’ll let me go.”

“I’m not letting you go back to them,” Flynn growled. His blood burned with hatred at the very thought of Rittenhouse getting their filthy claws into her again.

There was a moment of suspended animation, as though someone had hit pause on a film—and Flynn saw what Lucy was going to do.

She dodged and raced for the door but he was faster, snatching her up with two arms around her waist.

“Let me go!” she screamed, wild, scratching and hissing like a cat. “Flynn, let me go! They’ll kill her! You don’t understand—they’ll kill her! They’ll kill her!”

Flynn just held her, dragging her back until he hit the wall and could slide down, sitting, Lucy in his lap. She fought for a good minute or two, but over time her flailing grew weaker, her sobs overtaking her anger.

“They have her,” she whispered, hiccupping. “Flynn, they—they went back, somehow, and made it so Amy existed again and they—they kidnapped her. If I don’t cooperate, they’ll kill her. I… I failed her once. I can’t—I won’t fail her again.”

Oh, Lucy. His poor girl.

She didn’t love him—not yet, maybe not ever—but Wyatt was laid up and high as a goddamn kite on painkillers and there was no one else, so he held her. He just held her in his lap, stroking her hair, while she cried into his chest. It felt like the first time she’d cried properly in weeks, maybe months, judging by how her whole body shook.

“We’ll save her,” Flynn promised. He didn’t know how yet, but he’d figure it out. “We’ll rescue Amy, I promise you, _cher_.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can, and I will.” Flynn tightened his arms around her. “I’ve never failed a promise to you, Lucy. Maybe not in your timeline but in mine, I never failed a promise. I’m not about to end that streak now. We will find where they’re keeping Amy and we’ll get her back, safe and sound.”

“How can I trust you?”

“You already trust me.” That had been something Lucy—his Lucy—had told him eventually, that almost from the beginning she’d wanted to trust him. She’d wanted to believe that there was humanity in him, that he could do the right thing. That when he’d been taken to prison she’d trusted every piece of information he’d given her, that she’d felt nothing but guilt for accidentally betraying him.

Lucy sniffed. “You can’t beat them,” she whispered. “There’s so many of them, everywhere. You can’t trust anyone.”

“I trust you, and I trust Wyatt, and I trust Rufus and Jiya and Denise. And sometimes I trust Mason.”

That got a huff of laughter out of her.

Flynn sighed. “This won’t mean anything to you. I know that you’re a different person. But I once told you, my timeline’s version of you, that I was going to honor you and protect you. That I was going to be there for you, and Wyatt, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse. It doesn’t matter to me that the universe has chosen worse. I meant what I said and I’m standing by those words and by you.”

Lucy was crying silently now, her head nestled against his chest. "I can't lose her again. I can't. Please—" she hiccuped. "Please, Flynn, let me go. I have to get back, I have to prove I'm loyal or they'll hurt her."

Anger burned bright and hot in his chest. “I'm not letting you go back to them, and I'm not letting them keep Amy. We’re going to get her back, Lucy. Nobody will hurt Amy. I promise. We'll get her, bring her here, keep her safe.”

The universe hadn’t let him save Lorena and Iris. It had hurt Lucy, taken her from him. But please, if anyone out there could possibly hear him—let this be a promise he could keep.

Let him save Amy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who guessed: Congratulations! *throws confetti*


	9. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

Hurt… his throat was so dry, and something hurt… it was all dark…

Hand. Someone’s hand. He was holding…

“Shhh, _Liebling_ , you have a fever. It’s all right. Drink this.”

Garcia. Wyatt held on tighter. Lucy—where was—Lucy—

Lucy was gone, though. She wasn’t their Lucy anymore.

His leg, his forehead, everywhere, it burned…

Cool water, cool cloth on his forehead, cool small hand in his… smaller than Garcia’s, couldn’t be—

“I’m sorry,” someone whispering—someone crying. “I’m so sorry, this is my fault she did this to you.”

It couldn’t be. Lucy was gone. Not their Lucy anymore.

“You have to get better, okay? Wyatt? Please get better. I’m so sorry.”

Ghost. Ghost Lucy—slipping away—Luce, Luce, come back, Lucy…

“Hey, hey, Wyatt, it’s all right, you need to rest.”

Garcia, Garcia she was here, Lucy, ghost Lucy—she’s haunting—we failed her, I failed her, I failed Lucy…

A kiss to his hand. “Rest.” Why is Garcia crying, he can tell, his voice is doing that thick thing when he’s crying… “Just rest, get through this fever. You’ll see in the morning.”

But Lucy…

Darkness.

 

* * *

 

Flynn stormed into the room. “I knew she wasn’t really Rittenhouse,” he growled.

“What are you talking about?” Denise demanded.

“Amy,” Flynn told her curtly. “They’ve got her sister Amy, they’re using her as collateral. If Lucy doesn’t cooperate, Amy dies. Or possibly worse. God knows what else they’ll stoop to. That’s why she’s been working with them, why she hasn’t been talking to us.”

“Even if this is true,” Denise began.

“It is true.”

“She could be lying to you, Flynn.”

“Not about this,” Flynn all but shouted. “I know her, I know her better than I know anyone else—besides Wyatt—and I know when she’s lying. and this was not a story. She’s terrified for her sister, it’s the one way they could get her, the one person they knew she would do anything to protect.”

“And I’m telling you that we have no way of finding out where Amy is or how to guarantee her safety,” Denise replied. “This puts us back at square one.”

“Not necessarily,” Rufus piped in.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“What?” Rufus snorted. “I might not be in love with her but Lucy’s my friend. I’m from the other timeline too, remember? I know what she was like, how things should be before Rittenhouse fucked it all up. I’m invested in this too you know. And I think if we’re careful we could pull it off.”

“Let Rufus and me gather intel,” Flynn begged. “Wyatt has to recover anyway, and Lucy will stay safe here. She won’t interfere.”

“You’ve proven that you’re emotionally compromised—”

“I’ll keep him in line,” Rufus assured Denise.

He stood up, and it was not for the first time, but it was so rare that they all seemed to forget—that Rufus Carlin was not a fighter. He was not a gung-ho adventurer. But he was a man of strong character, a man who knew what was right and what was wrong, and a man who would not let his understanding of those things be compromised.

In his own way, Rufus Carlin was just as strong as Flynn or Wyatt.

Denise stared at him for a moment, and then she sighed. “Very well. You two will find out where they’re keeping Amy—if they even really have her. We’ll see what we can do to get her safe.”

“I’m coming too,” Jiya piped up, jumping to her feet. “I’ll be the pilot, you might need another pair of hands.”

Denise threw her hands in the air, as if to say she was despairing over these wayward idiots she had to babysit.

Flynn smiled grimly. “Then it’s settled.”

He'd made a promise, once. A promise he'd failed.

_What if there are monsters?_

_Then I'll get them for you._

There was no defending this time. No waiting for the monsters to come. No scrambling to protect what was his. This time, he was going after them.

Time to go on the offense.


	10. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

When the fever passed, Wyatt actually wasn’t sure that he hadn’t sustained permanent damage.

Because when he opened his eyes, Lucy was sitting there next to him.

He blinked. She was still there.

He had to still be hallucinating or something.

She saw that he was awake and gave him a small, hesitant smile. “Hi.”

Wyatt cleared his throat. Damn, he was thirsty. “Where’s Garcia?”

Lucy passed him a glass of water. “Out, doing something. He and Rufus have been running around the last few days. Denise said I could sit with you so long as…”

Wyatt looked down and saw that Lucy’s wrist was handcuffed to the chair.

Anger filled him, irrational as it was. Denise had every right not to trust Lucy, what with all the sabotaging she’d apparently been doing in this timeline, but that didn’t prevent him from being pissed off and wanting to go track down Denise and give her a fucking rundown of all the reasons this was not in the slightest bit okay.

Lucy gave him another smile, this one sad and tired. “It’s all right. I know I deserve it.”

“You don’t,” he said, more venom in his voice than he’d expected.

Lucy took the water glass from him and set it aside. “You need to keep resting. Carol didn’t aim to kill but you still lost a lot of blood.”

Wyatt swallowed. He didn’t want to ask, was scared to ask, but he didn’t know when he’d get another chance. “Lucy?”

She looked at him.

“What happened, in your timeline? How did it… all play out? Why did you switch sides?”

Lucy looked down at her hands. She was silent for a long moment, for long enough that Wyatt thought she wouldn’t say anything.

At last, she spoke.

“When I was taken, I was resistant. I refused to work for them. I wasn’t going to be a part of Rittenhouse, I didn’t care if it was a part of my family. Family’s not just blood, it’s who you choose.”

She took a deep, shaking breath, and Wyatt saw the tears in her eyes.

“But then… Mom—Carol—and Emma left. When they came back…” Lucy shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut. “They had Amy.”

Wyatt sat up, ignoring how dizzy that made him. “They what?”

“They had Amy,” Lucy repeated in a whisper. She opened to her eyes and Wyatt could see such raw pain in them. He’d give his damn leg, hell, give both of them, to take that pain away from her. “Emma had followed my mom’s instructions to go back in time and make sure Amy was born. Then she and Carol kidnapped Amy in the present and brought her to me.

“They told me they’d… they’d hurt her, every time I disobeyed. They’d figured out that I thought you all were dead and so I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. But I cared what happened to Amy.

“Everything I did for Rittenhouse was for her.” Lucy’s voice was cracking, pleading. “I know it’s not an excuse, Wyatt, I know it doesn’t mean you should forgive all that I did. But I couldn’t let them hurt my baby sister. I’d just gotten her back after losing her.”

“Your mom,” Wyatt asked. “Doesn’t she…”

The words died in her throat. He was going to ask if Carol loved Amy, but… had his own dad loved him? Had his own father treated him right? It wasn’t a far stretch to imagine Carol not loving her non-Rittenhouse daughter, treating her the way that Wyatt’s own father had treated him.

Lucy cleared her throat, clearly trying to maintain her composure. “I don’t know where they’re keeping her. All I know is that I have to do well for Rittenhouse or—but they’ll send me status updates, every so often, let me see photos of her. Once I got a video.” Lucy’s voice cracked again and she reached forward, taking Wyatt’s hand. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. If I’d done something—I don’t know, something different, everyone would be okay.”

It had been so long since he’d gotten to really touch her. Wyatt clung to her hand. “Lucy. Tell Denise about this. We can rescue Amy and keep her safe.”

Lucy shook her head. “No. I’ve risked too much by staying captive here so long. Who knows what they’ve done to her in the meantime.”

Wyatt frowned, trying to hide the panic surging up in his chest. “You’re not telling me you’ll… Lucy. You can’t escape.”

“Watch me,” Lucy hissed, determination hardening the lines of her face. “Wyatt, I hate Rittenhouse but I’m not going to waste another moment of my sister’s life.”

“So the solution is to help out the bad guys?” Wyatt could hear his voice rising but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Lucy, no, you’re better than this.”

“What if it was Jess?” Lucy argued. “If they had Jess, wouldn’t you do whatever it took?”

Wyatt opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it. He couldn’t cast blame on her and absolve himself, not with all that he had done—maybe not in this timeline, but in his own. “Yes,” he admitted, hating himself for it.

Lucy nodded. “You see? I had no choice.” She paused, considering. “But I hated every second of it. I know that probably doesn’t mean much, but… I hated doing that to you and Rufus.”

“And Garcia,” Wyatt added.

“I admit it surprised me when he started joining you on missions.” Lucy gave a small, bitter laugh. “He used to look at me with such pity.”

“It wasn’t pity,” Wyatt said, because he might not be from this timeline but he knew Flynn and he knew that Flynn didn’t bother with pitying people.

“What is it, then?” Lucy asked, challenged.

“You know what it is.” Wyatt was too tired to argue. “You know how we feel about you, Luce. What you are to us.”

Lucy looked away, her face a carefully blank mask. “Yes,” she said after a pause. “I know.”

Just because they loved her didn’t mean she loved them, Wyatt reminded himself. They weren’t owed her love.

He squeezed her hand, held onto it while she still let him. “Whatever you’ve had to do in this timeline… I’m not saying I like it. But I’m in no position to judge you. Neither is Flynn. We’ve both done shitty things, things that we regret. You don’t get to be the martyr here, or at least not the only one.”

Lucy nodded, still not looking at him. He could see a tear sliding down her cheek so he let go of her hand, reached up, brushed it away. She leaned into the touch of his hand, and Wyatt felt his heart stutter.

“It’ll work out,” he told her, because Flynn had been telling it to him, and they all had to take turns being the strong one.

Lucy gave a harsh laugh. He hated that sound, it was all wrong for Lucy. “You don’t know that.”

“I know that I love you, and that means we’ll find a way to work it out.” Again, quoting Flynn there, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t in some way true. He loved Lucy. Flynn loved Lucy. The rest was just… details.

Lucy nodded, gracing him with a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Wyatt felt sick inside. Gratitude. He didn’t want Lucy’s gratitude, he wanted her love. He wanted his wife back.

But he supposed he’d just take the gratitude for now.


	11. so I love you because I know no other way

Jiya piloted well, despite the fact that Rufus started out backseat driving and Flynn had to threaten to throw him out of the Lifeboat mid-jump before he cut it out. Jiya looked like she would have threatened him herself if she wasn’t too busy concentrating on actually getting them there in one piece.

Amy Preston did in fact exist in this timeline, nobody had doubted that. But she’d disappeared off the map at the same time Lucy had, and without a trace. It wasn’t easy to find her.

“Why didn’t any of you think of this before?” Flynn growled.

“Lucy was Rittenhouse’s best agent,” Denise snapped back at him in her Mom Voice. “We saw no signs of distress, no hidden messages, no signals. She appeared to be acting entirely of her own free will. How do we not know that Amy wasn’t Rittenhouse as well? She still could be Rittenhouse.”

“And I told you—” Flynn said, voice growing dangerous.

Rufus stepped in between. “Just let Jiya do her thing, okay?”

“Yeah, kind of hard to work when you’ve got a fistfight over your head,” Jiya replied, typing away.

It took Jiya weeks of hacking to figure out that Amy was trapped in the past. It would be just like Rittenhouse, to put Amy somewhere out of anyone’s reach.

Where in the past, though… that was the question.

The Mothership had done various jumps during the time period just before Lucy had been taken by Rittenhouse. They could have been doing any number of things during those times—and because it had already happened, they couldn’t tell if anything major in history had changed. So they had to jump, and try to do reconnaissance.

“Are you worried?” Rufus asked as they exited in 1929, a few days after the stock market crashed.

“About what? You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Flynn replied. Worried about Lucy, a prisoner in their bedroom. About Wyatt, laid up with a goddamn bullet wound and a fever.

And, in a way most of all—worried about what would happen if they actually succeeded in reuniting the sisters.

“Worried about if this is just wasting time and we’re going to find out that Rittenhouse planted another sleeper agent or something while we were off looking for Amy,” Rufus explained.

Flynn shook his head. “We can’t worry about that.”

“And why not?”

“Because if you think about anything other than the current mission, you’re distracted. You can screw up. And if you bother thinking about all the ways that we could mess up, you’re going to drive yourself certifiably insane.”

Rufus gave him an odd look. “Is that how you made it?”

Flynn paused. “What do you mean?”

“When you were opposing us,” Rufus clarified, keeping an eye on Jiya as she asked locals about any strange happenings lately, showing them pictures of Amy. “Is that how you got through… doing all of the things that you did? Killing people, destabilizing the timeline?”

Flynn stared off into the middle distance. He still hated to think about the things that he’d done. He’d never liked them. Never wanted to do them. But he’d do what was necessary. Stopping Rittenhouse was the greater evil. He’d fought in rebellions before, against oppressing regimes—did people think those were all fun and games, glory and honor and heroism? They were messy, dirty things, where you were doing things that were just as bad as what the other side were doing, where you had to learn the term ‘the ends justify the means’ in the nastiest, most brutal way possible.

Rittenhouse was just another war.

“What you do is…” Flynn cleared his throat. “What you do is you break it down. Time. You think, I just have to get through today. You focus only on today. If that’s too much… you break it down into hours. How do I get through this hour. Get it down to minute by minute if you have to. If that’s what it takes. You just think, how do I get through this one minute. Then how do I get through this one minute. And so on.”

“Sounds miserable.”

Flynn let out a harsh laugh. “It is.”

“Guys!” Jiya ran up. Her eyes were wide, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Someone’s seen her.”

Flynn’s heart skipped a beat.

“No rescuing,” Rufus reminded them, probably sensing the change in Flynn’s heartbeat or something. “We’re gathering intel only.”

Right. Wyatt would be better soon, and then he and Flynn would go and get Amy and bring her back.

And then Lucy would be free.

Flynn wasn’t sure what to think about that. What would happen next.

This Lucy didn’t love him, after all. She loved Wyatt, but in this timeline… there was no Jessica. Or if there was, she wasn’t in the picture anymore. There was nothing keeping Wyatt and Lucy apart, nothing to make her run into Flynn’s arms and start the whole mess that had led to the three of them coming together.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do about that.

As they gathered the intel—Amy was being held in a now-abandoned Gatsby-esque mansion, one of the many along the waterfront that had been abandoned when the families lost everything in the crash—Flynn turned the question over and over in his mind.

He could come to only one conclusion.

Lucy loved Wyatt, and Wyatt loved Lucy. And Wyatt did love Flynn, Flynn didn’t doubt that. He had, once, in the beginning, worried that Wyatt was just making himself do this for Lucy’s sake and that he really was only sort of attracted to Flynn, but he knew it now. Knew it like he knew the sun was going to rise the next day. But Flynn couldn’t make Wyatt stay with him and leave Lucy out in the cold.

No, if anyone was going to be left out in the cold, it had to be him.

He’d handle it. Knowing they were safe… it would be enough. It was, ironically, almost like what he’d been planning when he’d been trying to do with Lorena and Iris: bring them back, make sure they were safe, and quietly slip away.

They’d be in love, and they’d be together. He could handle that.

He had to handle it.

That was what you did when you loved someone, wasn’t it? You did what they needed, not what you wanted. And it was clear to him that they needed each other more than they needed him so…

Flynn closed his eyes. Just get through this hour. There’s only this hour.

Just get through this.


	12. than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

It was only a matter of time until one of them slipped up.

She wasn’t surprised that it was Wyatt. He was clearly taking this whole thing harder than Flynn was. Flynn seemed to have this odd determination about him, this conviction. It reminded her of how fanatical he had been at the beginning, against Rittenhouse, ready to do whatever it took. Only now it was directed at her.

She didn’t know what to do about that.

She loved Wyatt. She knew that. She’d been in love with him when she’d lost him—or thought she’d lost him in the explosion. When Mom had kidnapped her, shown her Amy…

Lucy closed her eyes against the memory.

But did she love Flynn?

There was something there, she knew it, she felt it. Before, as well, something tugging at her, sending her towards him even when she didn’t want to be.

But that led to an even worse question—did she deserve him.

Did she deserve either of them?

Maybe the Lucy of their timeline did. But she was different. She’d joined Rittenhouse, killed people, hurt others, was unraveling time bit by bit and remaking it into a horrible visage. All for the sake of her sister.

Maybe someone else could be more heroic. Maybe there was someone else out there who could bear to see their sister, tearful and terrified, and lift their chin up and say, No. I will not help you do this.

She wasn’t one of those people. She was no hero.

How could she be the same woman that these two men loved?

But now—now the door was left unlocked. Wyatt hadn’t turned the key, she heard it.

She had to get to Amy.

The door eased open silently and she stepped out into the hall, trying to roll the balls of her feet to make no sound as she crept along. It might already be too late. Amy might already be dead or on her way to dead, God knew what they were willing to do to her—

She heard a noise.

Lucy froze, ears straining—nothing.

Then a creak, the sound of someone shifting on furniture.

Her curiosity got the better of her. She couldn’t afford to be snuck up on.

She paused in the shadows, watching, observing.

Wyatt was sitting on the edge of the couch, his head hanging down, hands over his knees. Flynn was crouching in front of him, looking up into his face, saying something too low for Lucy to hear.

Wyatt shook his head and then Flynn’s hands came up, gently framing Wyatt’s face, cupping it. The way Flynn was looking at him…

It made the breath catch in her throat. She’d seen Flynn look at her that way, every night since she’d come back. Maybe even before then, out of the corner of her eye, like when she’d been on stage with Houdini.

The thing was… she hadn’t been all that sure about the Flynn-and-Wyatt part of this triangle they’d presented her with. It was clear to her that both the men were in love with her. They’d declared it over and over again since they’d captured her. But Wyatt? And Flynn? In love with one another?

But now, oh, now, Flynn was taking Wyatt up into his arms and holding him, and Wyatt was clinging to him like he was caught in a storm and Flynn was the only lifeboat. They rested their foreheads together, soft, breathing in each other’s air, Flynn’s hands soothing up and down Wyatt’s back, Wyatt’s hands digging into Flynn’s shirt.

She wanted to cross the space, to grab Wyatt and kiss him and tell him it was all right, it would be all right.

And she wanted to do the same to Flynn.

They shifted, Flynn tucking Wyatt’s head over his shoulder, and she saw the moment it happened—the moment Wyatt couldn’t see him and Flynn’s face crumpled.

The way he’d been holding himself together for Wyatt.

Her heart, her whole chest ached, like it was an unbearably empty cavern. For the first time since they’d introduced her to the idea, she believed. They both loved her. They loved each other.

And she loved both of them.

She crept back into her room. Told herself that it was because they were blocking the Lifeboat. Told herself that she’d get another opportunity.

Silently hoped that Flynn was right, and that they could rescue Amy.


	13. so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

It was just Flynn and Wyatt when the time came.

Wyatt tried to tell himself that was the reason why things felt too big and empty as they set out.

Flynn already knew a bit of how to pilot the ship from Emma and Anthony. He’d made sure to talk with them about piloting and learned a bit from them, just in case worst came to worst. Between Rufus and Jiya’s tutelage while they went on other Rittenhouse missions, he was able to pilot them there.

Wyatt was silent as he buckled in, staring at the empty seat across from him. If this went well, Amy would be sitting in that seat before long.

They had no idea what kind of condition she’d be in—mentally or physically. They had as much first aid as they could cram into the Lifeboat, just in case, but they didn’t really know. When Flynn and Rufus had scouted out the house she was being kept in, they hadn’t actually gotten close enough to see her, just had seen the Rittenhouse agents coming and going, carrying brown bags of what—they hoped—was food for Amy.

It had occurred to everyone that Amy might not actually be there. But it was a Rittenhouse base, Amy or no Amy, and so taking it out would be good either way.

They landed, a few careful days after Flynn, Rufus, and Jiya had been there, just to be on the safe side. No sense in accidentally boiling their own brains by running into their former selves.

Flynn looked at Wyatt as he checked his gun. “You okay?”

Wyatt nodded.

Flynn reached out, putting his hand on Wyatt’s knee. “Wyatt. Hey.”

Wyatt paused, but still didn’t look at him. Didn’t know if he could look at him.

“What if we get Amy,” he whispered, “And she still doesn’t want us? What if she still wants to go back to Rittenhouse, what if she still believes in them?”

“She doesn’t believe in them,” Flynn said firmly. “She went along with it for Amy’s sake. Once Amy is safe, she’ll be on our side again.”

“But what if she doesn’t want _us_?” Wyatt asked.

It was the question that he had been avoiding thinking about, every time that Flynn had reassured him, every time that Denise had asked about the plan. Of course Rittenhouse mattered, of course saving the world mattered, but what about his heart? What about Flynn’s?

What if it turned out that in this life, Lucy just… didn’t love them?

Flynn squeezed Wyatt’s knee gently. “She loves you,” he said gently, firmly, like it was an unchangeable fact of the world, like gravity.

There was something in that, in the way that he said it, that gave Wyatt pause, but then Flynn was standing up and heading for the door. “We better go. We won’t have much time before they notice the Lifeboat. Especially since we were only here a few days ago.”

The house was deserted, at least in appearance, when they crept up to it. This was where Flynn and Wyatt worked best together. They were both soldiers, both had seen war, and they had a silent shorthand that sometimes felt like Flynn was reading Wyatt’s mind and vice versa.

They moved through silently, independently but always knowing where the other one was: Wyatt through the front entrance, Flynn in the back. Wyatt taking out the man in the kitchen, Flynn making his way up the stairs. Wyatt checking one room, Flynn another, always moving, eyes flitting over to one another to check up, gazes locking, a nod, turning as one, backs to each other.

Utterly synchronized.

They found her in the basement. She looked up as they came in, and Wyatt was immediately struck by the family resemblance. Amy’s face was rounder, her hair blonde, but those eyes… those big dark eyes, those were the same.

She screamed through her gag, and Wyatt didn’t even want to think about the rust-colored stains on her shirt or the crusted circular cuts on her wrists or the swollen purple of her cheek.

“It’s okay,” Flynn said soothingly. He had more experience with this than Wyatt did. Delta Force got in and got the bad guys. Flynn had worked in revolutions. He had seen more civilians than Wyatt had.

Flynn put his hands up, then laid his gun down. Wyatt kept his gun on the door, standing to the side, just in case they’d missed someone as they passed through.

“It’s okay,” Flynn repeated. “I’m a friend of Lucy’s, she sent me.”

Amy shook her head, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes. Wyatt was going to kill Carol the first chance he saw her, fuck, how could she do this to the woman she’d raised, how could she care so little about Amy that she’d let them abuse her like this to try and keep Lucy in line?

“I’m going to take your gag off, okay? I won’t touch you anywhere else.”

Flynn slowly lowered the gag, working it out of her mouth. “There, that’s better.”

Amy took several huge, deep breaths. Wyatt swore mentally. They’d been serious—stuffed her mouth with cotton then put the gag over it. Nobody could get a full breath that way.

“That’s it, good job.” Flynn got to work on the restraints. “You gave them a real fight, didn’t you?” he asked, referring to the cuts on Amy’s wrists, cuts from trying to work off the restraints. “That’s it. That’s Wyatt, he’s going to keep his weapon up in case anyone comes at us. I’m going to pick you up now, okay? Or can you walk?”

Amy carefully raised a hand and wiped at her eyes. She had the same determined dignity as her sister, Wyatt noted—her shoulders set back, her tears quickly wiped away, her face carefully composed. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. Her voice was hoarse, raspy from the gag and cotton and disuse.

“Take my hand.”

Wyatt had been in too many combat situations to get fully distracted, but he had to admit that as soon as possible he was kissing Flynn fucking senseless for the way he was acting now, so impossibly soft and gentle, helping Amy to her feet, touching her only where he said he would, his movements certain but slow for her sake.

Amy’s legs gave out almost immediately and Flynn caught her. “Whoa, whoa, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll just carry you, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Amy said stubbornly.

Wyatt couldn’t help his grin. She was so like her sister.

“Nobody’s thinking any less of you,” Flynn assured her. “You’ve been through Hell. We might have to run for it so I’ll just carry you for now.”

Amy looked like she might protest, but Flynn was already scooping her up, dutifully ignoring how Amy sucked in a pained breath as he undoubtedly touched some wounds.

Flynn looked over at Wyatt, who nodded. They were still in the clear.

The one good thing about everyone going through a major disaster: nobody questioned them as they carried a clearly-beaten and abused woman through the streets to the Lifeboat. The economy had completely collapsed a week ago, everyone had bigger things to worry about.

Wyatt strapped Amy in as Flynn started up the Lifeboat.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked.

Wyatt paused. “What makes you say that?”

Amy shook her head. “The stuff they gave me. To… disorient me. Is this that? Am I dreaming this? Time travel… shit you know…” she gave a kind of tired laugh, one just on the edge of hysteria.

Using drugs to disorient and mess with a torture victim was pretty standard M.O. Wyatt’s hands clenched in the seatbelt straps and he breathed carefully through his nose so that Amy wouldn’t see his anger. He was regretting killing those agents so quickly. He should’ve made them suffer more.

“I have to warn you,” Flynn said, “You’re probably going to throw up.”

The Lifeboat made the jump.

 

* * *

 

Everyone was waiting for them when they got back.

Including Lucy.

Denise had let her out of the room while they were waiting. “Don’t even think about pulling anything,” she warned.

Lucy nodded. She knew, she was on thin ice, and would be for a while.

But if the boys pulled this off…

The Lifeboat landed and Lucy’s heart leapt into her chest. Please. Please, dear God, please let them both be safe, please let Amy…

The door opened.

Wyatt exited first, his eyes landing on her like he was pulled to her on a string. He stared at her for a moment, a strange look on his face, like that of a starving man—and then he smiled.

And stepped aside.

Flynn was carrying her, carrying her because she was covered in bruises and blood, her pretty hair matted and dirty, her wrists painfully swollen and so pale and weak but she was alive, she was _alive_ , she was—

Lucy was moving before she even realized she was doing it. She sprinted, arms opening, yanking Amy straight out of Flynn’s arms and into hers, the two of them sinking to the ground. Amy sobbed, her whole body shaking, clinging to her. Lucy wrapped her arms around her sister, _her sister_ , petting her hair, soothing her.

“Shh,” she hummed. “You’re safe now, you’re safe, they’ll never touch you again, Amy, Amy, Amy…”

And Amy clung back, sobbed, apologized, “I’m sorry they made you—I’m sorry it’s all my fault, they made you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Lucy told her, trying to speak around the lump in her throat. “You have nothing to apologize for. Amy, Amy, Amy.”

She couldn’t stop saying her sister’s name. It was like if she stopped, Amy would disappear again.

She looked up, saw Flynn and Wyatt standing there. The others were there, too. Rufus and Mason were approaching with medical supplies, Denise was on the phone with someone calling a doctor, and Jiya was standing with her hands over her mouth, horror in her eyes. But all Lucy could see were Flynn and Wyatt.

“Thank you,” she whispered, rocking Amy back and forth. Her voice broke. “Thank you so much.”

Wyatt looked like he was going to fall apart any second, but Flynn cleared his throat and said, like he meant it, “Don’t mention it.”

Lucy buried her face again in Amy’s hair. Underneath the horrible scent of bile and blood, there was the sweet, tangy scent of Amy’s skin, the faintest whiffs of strawberry shampoo in her hair, the smell that Lucy had memorized as a child.

The smell of home.


	14. so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter. Thank you all for reading and reviewing, as always. You're all wonderful! And to captainofthefallen, of course, who contributed two chapters and was my sounding board for this whole thing, supplying ideas and support.

Flynn started cleaning his things up immediately.

Everyone else was distracted. A medical team was checking up on Amy and Lucy, understandably, had a death grip on her sister’s hand and looked like she’d rather have that hand chopped off than let go. Rufus was checking up on the Lifeboat since apparently his trust in Flynn did not extend to trusting Flynn not to muck any of the controls up while piloting. Jiya was getting new clothes for Amy, Denise was who knew where, and Mason was who cared where.

Wyatt, of course, was with Lucy. Where else would he be?

Flynn wanted to be there too. He wanted to ask Wyatt to come here, pull him into his arms, let him cry the way he knew that Wyatt was dying to. He wanted to put his hand on Lucy’s shoulder, tell her that it was okay, she could exhale now, the waiting was over. She was free.

But if he did that… well, Lucy wouldn’t want him to do that anyway, and when else was he going to get a chance to clear his things out of the bedroom?

Lucy would be moving in, and that meant Flynn had to move out.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Flynn turned to see Wyatt standing in the doorway. He looked like Hell, but then, Flynn was pretty sure he didn’t look any better.

Flynn looked at his stuff, which he’d been gathering into a messy pile on the bed, and then back at Wyatt. “I’m…”

“You’re leaving?” Wyatt’s voice cracked but for once he didn’t seem to care, striding forward.

“Lucy—”

“You said,” Wyatt told him, sounding lost like a child. “You said, she loves—”

“She loves _you_ ,” Flynn said gently. He put his hands on Wyatt’s shoulders, the only touch he’d allow himself. “She doesn’t love me. You need to be there for her.”

“But…” Wyatt looked around, like someone was going to pop out of the woodwork and give him answers. “But I need you. I can’t—I love both of you. You can’t leave.”

“And split you between us? Make Lucy share you with someone she doesn’t know and doesn’t trust?”

Fire blazed in Wyatt’s eyes and he surged forward, grabbing Flynn’s shirt, hauling them together. “Lucy is still our Lucy,” he all but snarled. “You said it, you’ve been saying it this whole time. She’s still the same Lucy. That means she loves you. Maybe she doesn’t realize it yet but she will, just like I did. Christ, Garcia, I just had to lose her, I’m not losing you too now. I’m not.”

Wyatt was shaking, shaking like he was going to literally fall to pieces, and Flynn couldn’t help it—he wrapped his arms around him, hugging him. Wyatt hugged him back, crushing him. “I love you,” Wyatt hissed, fierce. “I love you, and I love her, and I’m not giving up either of you. I’m not letting you be a self-sacrificing bastard and walk away, you understand me? You stay, and Lucy’s going to have to accept that if she wants me she has to put up with you, too.”

Flynn held on tight, tighter than he probably should, he had to be hurting Wyatt, but Wyatt didn’t say anything in protest.

“We’re a package deal,” Wyatt told him. He pulled back, only to press their foreheads together. Breathing the same space. “You’ve been the strong one through this whole thing, huh? Let me have a turn.”

Flynn nodded, his breath pressing up against the insides of his chest, his eyes hot and stinging.

Wyatt reached up, brushing Flynn’s hair out of his face. “Let’s go talk to our girl.”

 

* * *

 

Lucy looked up when she heard someone entering the med room. The doctors had left a short bit ago, and everyone else had left her alone with Amy, seeing that she needed some time just the two of them.

Amy was asleep now. Lucy still had a hold of her hand—Amy’d been dozing in and out as she’d been cleaned and bandaged, and she would start screaming if Lucy wasn’t right there, in her line of sight.

Now that she was clean and in new clothes, Lucy could see how frail her sister had gotten. Oh, Amy. Her sweet baby sister. How could she have let them do this to her?

But someone was entering the room.

Lucy squeezed Amy’s hand, calculating the distance to the door, how much strength it would take to stand up and fling the chair she was sitting on at the person if they were hostile.

But it was Flynn and Wyatt.

Wyatt was holding Flynn’s hand, a determined expression on his face. “Hey, Luce, do you have a moment?”

Lucy nodded. She glanced at Amy. “She’ll… if I’m not here…”

“We’ll leave the door open.”

Lucy followed them out the door, keeping it open, standing just outside in the hallway.

Flynn, to her surprise, looked terrified. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him scared before… or wait, she had. When they’d faced Rittenhouse, the man who gifted his name to the organization, and Rittenhouse had said… he’d threatened to… he’d ordered the soldiers, to put her in his bedroom. Flynn had been scared, then.

Scared for her.

Had he really started caring that much all the way back then? Had she really been so blind? At the time she’d seen the expression of fear on Wyatt’s face, but she hadn’t realized that Flynn wore an identical expression.

How could she have failed to see what was right in front of her?

Wyatt cleared his throat. “Okay. Um. So. You know what our timeline was like.”

Lucy nodded.

Wyatt glanced momentarily at Flynn, who was just kind of standing there frozen like a man who was waiting for the guillotine to fall. “I’ve… been informed that you…” he rolled his eyes. “Oh, fuck it. Look, we love you. We both love you. In our timeline, you’re our wife, and the feelings that went with that haven’t changed. And if you don’t want anything to do with either of us, we’re going to respect that. But you can’t have one of us without the other. If you want to be with me, that means you’re with Flynn too. And vice versa.”

Lucy stared at him. “What makes you think I only want one of you?”

Wyatt stared at her for a moment, eyes a little wide, then turned to Flynn. “Ha!”

“But—” Flynn stuttered. “Lucy. You—I was your enemy, in your timeline… the last thing I said to you, if I’m remembering correctly, I told you I was never going to forgive you.”

“You were angry,” Lucy said quietly. “Flynn, I…” She swallowed, trying to gather her thoughts into words. “I want things to be slow. I’m not… sure, exactly, where I am anymore. In a lot of ways. But I know that the whole time I was with Rittenhouse, I…”

She looked at Wyatt. “I loved you. I loved you since—God, I don’t even know. I really don’t. And it killed me that I had to fight you, that I had to treat you the way that I did. I’m going to spend forever making that up to you.”

She looked at Flynn. “But what I’ve realized… watching you two together, the way you—this whole time, how you, with me, you—I think I could love you, too. I want, what you say that we had, in your timeline. I want that happiness, I want that security, I want…”

Fuck, she was crying, and she hadn’t even realized she’d started. “I want what the other me had.” She laughed bitterly. “Is that crazy? To be envious of yourself? Because I am, I want that life, I want what she had with you, I—”

“You can have that,” Wyatt promised her softly. “We’re offering you that. And we can go as slow or as fast as you need. But we can get there.”

He reached underneath his shirt, pulling out the ring—the one he wore on a chain, the one he’d brandished at her, screaming, _you’re our wife!_ Had that only been a month or so ago? It felt like years.

“This is a promise, and that promise doesn’t go away. It’s here for you.” Wyatt smiled slowly, carefully. “As long as it takes.”

She looked at Flynn, who nodded. He was looking at her like a man in darkness looked at what he thought might be the sunrise, willing to risk blindness if it meant he might at last be free of the night.

Lucy took a deep breath. Reached out her hand. “Come here.”

He came, like he was the tide and she was the moon, naturally, unable to help himself. He let her move from there, let her reach up on her tiptoes, take his chin into her hand and kiss him slowly, tentatively. Testing.

It felt the way Amy smelled: like home.

She heard a choked noise and turned to see Wyatt hastily wiping at his face. “I’m fine,” he said stubbornly. “I’m fine, God, stop looking at me like that—”

Lucy didn’t know whether to laugh or start crying with him, pulling him in, kissing him deeply the way she’d always dreamed about. Wyatt made a startled noise and pulled back. “You sure?”

She nodded. As slow or as fast as it was going to unfold. She wanted this. “Yes.”

“You know us,” Wyatt said slowly. “You love us, both of us.”

Lucy nodded. “Yes, yes.”

_Always yes._


End file.
